


"I-It Isn't Fair!" [Jamilton]

by Sammy_is_obsessed



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Jamilton - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-19 20:16:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14880510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sammy_is_obsessed/pseuds/Sammy_is_obsessed
Summary: It had started out as a cold. Thomas always seemed to have a sniffled, a frog always in his throat. No one thought any of it, god why would they? The illness would pass, of course, it would pass. That was the most logical way to look at things. When he started coughing Alexander became a little more concerned, suggesting perhaps he should visit a doctor and make sure everything was alright. Thomas brushed it off, though, sure there wasn't any reason to worry. At this Alexander had tried to be lulled into calmness, trusting his husband no matter what. He promised that he wouldn't worry, though it wasn't something he could completely make good on. In the back of his mind he worried, worried a lot about the well being of someone he loved so greatly and still, mindlessly, he didn't speak up about this. He'd really tried to cease his concerning and thought he'd been rinsed of it – up until that fateful night.





	"I-It Isn't Fair!" [Jamilton]

**Author's Note:**

> (A/N:) Hey guys, Sammy here. Just a word of warning, this one is rather angty but I'm actually fairly proud of this old oneshot. If you want to check out more fics like this my wattpad username is the same as this one (Sammy_is_obsessed). Also, if you enjoy it, please consider leaving a comment or if you have some feedback for me. I always love to hear what you guys think, it really makes my day. Thank you and enjoy.

Third Person P.O.V:

It was no surprise that Alexander and Thomas's relationship hadn't exactly gotten along perfectly in the beginning. Theirs was a touchy subject at best, something that made most sincerely believes that they would hate each other for eternity. They worked together and in truth, their anger with each other that mascaraed as hatred was truly hidden jealousy. They envied each other's talents, their abilities with public speaking and wooing crowds when it came to debates. In this, there was stupidity in the sense that their "hatred" was based almost solely on the belief that the other did a more proficient job of his profession. Though this was a major issue between them that stemmed these arrogant arguments, there was certainly something more. At the time both men were engaged in romantic relationships, Thomas with his friend James and Alexander with John. Perhaps, in secret, there was something much different brewing between them. In truth, though they were each somewhat happy with their boyfriends' their relationships had worked far better as simply friendships and all involved were secretly aware of this. It was no shock that when James and John were just friends with their former lovers Alexander and Thomas no longer bickered nearly as much.

Eventually, the duo was ready to put aside their childish tendencies – though it'd taken far too long, they were stubborn the both of them – and at long last, they'd admitted their feelings for one another. There was much rejoicing though it wasn't all perfect. They hadn't expected this connection between them, neither of them had, and with their problematic past, it was unsurprising that there was a bit of awkwardness at first. Changing their views of one another and accepting their love, a small white flaming growing brighter and brighter with each fleeting instance, was something that took precious and careful time but they managed. They learned to appreciate and admire one another for all of their wondrous strengths – as well as their weaknesses. No longer did they poke fun at each other's shortcomings or be one anther's downfalls but rather lifted each other up. They turned out to be each other's greatest confidants and months stretched into years.

They watched in joy as that flame, once tiny, grew into a roaring fire, red and hot and vibrant. They'd spent practically every waking moment together, met each other's parents and family, and after some time became husbands. For so long it had felt like each piece of the puzzle that was their life together had fallen into place perfectly. Everything was wonderful - but as most of us know, things can't be perfect for forever.

No one, not their friends, not their family, could have foretold that anything could tear them apart. Their love seemed as if it could withstand anything that stood in its way, but of course, this was foolish to believe. Being married for a long while and having dated for many years prior, they'd decided that it was about time that they had a child. They were in the process of looking into adoption, already having a child lined up who could potentially be their little boy when disaster struck, nothing that was expected.

It had started out as a cold. Thomas always seemed to have a sniffled, a frog always in his throat. No one thought any of it, god why would they? The illness would pass, of course, it would pass. That was the most logical way to look at things. When he started coughing Alexander became a little more concerned, suggesting perhaps he should visit a doctor and make sure everything was alright. Thomas brushed it off, though, sure there wasn't any reason to worry. At this Alexander had tried to be lulled into calmness, trusting his husband no matter what. He promised that he wouldn't worry, though it wasn't something he could completely make good on. In the back of his mind he worried, worried a lot about the well being of someone he loved so greatly and still, mindlessly, he didn't speak up about this. He'd really tried to cease his concerning and thought he'd been rinsed of it – up until that fateful night.

Alexander had arrived a little later than usual, having to stay a little while at work while Thomas had stayed home that day, explaining he was feeling a bit off. When Alexander had come into the living room he expected to find Thomas curled up on the sofa watching TV and waiting for him – except he wasn't there. He searched their bedroom and every other room in the house before finally creeping his way towards the bathroom. There, the door creaking open agonizingly slowly with a trembling hand, he found his ultimate horror. Thomas laid crumpled on the tile floor, pale as death and passed out on the ground. Dripping from his mouth was the color maroon, having heaved up blood with vomit. Immediately, in his panic and grief, he called the paramedics, trying his best to shake him into consciousness. The paramedics had rushed to the scene as quickly as they could and soon Thomas was taken to the hospital, Alexander by his side in his utter confusion.

In his stay, it was discovered that Thomas was severely ill – though no one truly knew with what. Doctors and nurse tried their hand at uncovering the mysterious affliction but no one understood, try as they did. For weeks he was examined, tests of all sorts were done and second opinions were taken from many doctors from all over the country. The results were upsettingly nothing.

Of course, both men tried to be hopeful about the situation, Alexander especially. He could not and would not face the fact that his beloved husband was gravely ill and that they were in such dire straits. He'd done everything in his power to deny this truth and when he finally was forced with open eyes to see the reality - that Thomas had been quickly shedding weight and his lover who he's praised for his strength and composure was now looking like a shell of his former glory - thrusting him into worrisome blame.

If only I'd forced him to go to the doctors! Alexander thought to himself, again and again, his demons of thoughts screaming at him in rage as he watched him weaken more so and the sparkle to fade from Thomas's eyes. This is all my fault! If I'd done that he would be alright by now. I'm his demise. I'm my husbands ruin!

Alexander had tried, in vain, to hide his secret seething thoughts, but even at his weakest point Thomas was a bright man and he could clearly see through the facade. He'd tried to explain to Alexander that it was, in fact, his fault, as he had avoided going to the doctors truly believing it was a flu or a cold but nothing could make his husband quit his blaming. It was his fault, as he saw it, and his alone.

Though Thomas was still hospital-bound a shimmer of good trickled into the darkness that was their lives. The doctors were fairly sure they'd found a treatment that could cure him of his ailment and restore him to his former glory. They believed they'd discovered what was the matter and could correct. How splendid that would've been too, but it seemed it wasn't meant to be.

As it turned out Thomas had contracted a rare disease, and illness that if not caught in its early stages was simply powerless to stop. There was nothing that could be done and to everyone's horror, Thomas didn't have much time left. He could not run from what was becoming his fate and the grains of sand of the hourglass that is life was steadily running out. Alexander, in his searing pain, was being forced to say goodbye to everything he'd known and loved. Alexander had made an attempt to try and be positive, to blind himself with the what-if's but that in turn forced him to blind himself from the glaring issue of Thomas's shortening lifespan, which in itself was an entirely new problem he was creating. He couldn't do this, not no when he could be spending every waking moment caring for Thomas and treating him right. He'd already wasted too much time!

In what the doctors had theorized was the last leg of his life, Thomas was allowed to return home. The idea of spending the final days in a decimal gloomy hospital room was far less than ideal, and being home with Alexander by his side was really all he could ask for at this point. There had been many days of sitting in bed together, binging on television shows and movies, speaking softly to each other though there was no need to whisper. Perhaps they feared that death was listening. They spent this precious time as if it was a casual Sunday and not their final moments together, for that seemed to be the best way to approach things for both of their sakes. Even so, with medications doing absolutely nothing Thomas had completely ceased taking any kind and he was fading fast. His face was looking incredibly sunken in now, his skin a greenish pale that was incredibly sickly. His strength had almost completely left his body, reducing him to practically nothing. He could hardly even hold his head up, let alone do anything else for that matter. The rapid process of Thomas's deterioration was positively heart-wrenching for Alexander, and there were many instances where he was forced to exit the room to shed a tear.

In these moments of reflection and pain, Alexander realized how much more he wanted to say to Thomas. There were so many things he desperately wanted to confess to his husband, so much he knew he would never get the chance to say and that was truly the most devastating thing to him. In realizing what little he could do to express his love to Thomas he'd decided that writing a letter would be the best option. Yes, he would present Thomas with a letter explaining everything he could cram in to show him just how much he adored him! If Thomas couldn't read it himself, as illness had him in a death grip and made it difficult to pay attention what so ever he thought perhaps he could read it to him if necessary. Even if he didn't understand everything said it didn't matter so much as he got it out of his system. He was positive he wouldn't be able to get through it without crying but this was a chance and he wasn't going to pass up.

One evening when Thomas had been feeling particularly bad, shivering in cold sweats and murmuring almost unintelligibly Alexander was stricken with such sadness, wishing only that he could get some well-deserved rest. When he'd finally gotten Thomas to sleep he'd slinked out of their bedroom and into his office, sitting pen in hand and writing into the evening. He didn't get a single hour of sleep that night, exhaustion gnawing at him but it didn't matter in the slightest. In over a hundred pages he'd mapped out absolutely everything he could think to tell him. Scrawled in practical chicken scratch it was all there, from everything he loved about him to in-depth explanations of how thankful he was that the relationship they had in the past had changed. There was a plethora of information here, and though it was certainly in excess Alexander couldn't have helped himself if he wanted to. This was it, the final grand gesture he could bestow upon Thomas and he'd done everything he could to make it exceptional.

Alexander stared blearily out the window, morning sunlight streaming into the room. He stood from where he sat, stretching with a tired groan and straightening the papers, making sure they were in perfect order before leaving the room and walking into the hallway, his excitement to show Thomas all that he had to express overwhelming. Even with this being so, he stalled, pausing by the closed door of their bedroom for a brief moment. Suddenly, he felt gripped by fear and unsureness. He didn't know why he was suddenly struck with this uncertainty, epically with how hard he'd worked through the evening. He stood there, frozen in a fear that crept through him, hand stationed on the door handle before it seemed to have been shaken from him, the door slowly opening with a creak.

"Tommy, love?" He asked, his exhaustion evident in his tone of voice, "Are you awake yet?" Thomas had hardly been sleeping at all in the last few evenings, but he seemed to have slept fairly well last night and Alexander hoped that he was well-rested. Thomas didn't stir at his voice, though, he didn't move a muscle. "Thomas?" Alexander took another step towards the bed, his voice this time riddled with caution and rising in volume. Thomas still didn't acknowledge him. "Sweetheart?" With a few final steps, Alexander let out an agonizing gasp, a sound that enveloped the otherwise silent room.

Thomas laid in bed, his eyes stuck open, glazed over with a look of utter terror. His mouth was hung open and arm outstretched, fingers still gripping the bedside table as if he'd screamed in anguish, a sound that from his weak throat Alexander wouldn't have heard from down the hall. His other arm laid limp at his side, his skin coated in a layer of sweat that practically shimmered in the early morning light that bled in through the blinds. Droplets of blood collected at the corners of his mouth and there were stains of crimson that soaked patches into the contrast of the white bed sheets, demonstrating graphically that his last struggles of breath were more agonizing than fathomable.

Thomas was dead.

Alexander's breath caught in his throat, his heart feeling as if it had stopped as his arms fell at his sides, the papers slipping from his fingers and fluttering about the room, flittering to the ground. They scattered in an instant, coating the hardwood floor in a canvas of white and ink. Alexander felt his strength fail him, collapsing against the bed as he gripped almost feverishly at Thomas's arm, prying it from the bedside table.

"T-Tommy? Tommy wake up, darling. Wake up. C-come on, y-your j-just sleepily. Wake up, s-sunshine." Alexander's voice quivered with each syllable uttered, getting louder and more frantic with each breath. "Thomas c-come on now. G-get up. N-not yet. Dear lord n-not yet." Alexander gripped him possessively, shaking his body as if his corpse could be awoken from the dead. "Thomas p-please! Not yet! N-not yet!" He was screaming now, the tears that had quickly gathered in his eyes no a downpour down his face cast in sorrow. "I-I've got so m-much to t-t-to tell you, T-Thomas. Y-you can't l-leave me y-yet. I-I didn't even g-get to say goodbye. I-I'm not ready! I-I-it isn't fair!!!" No matter how much he shook, no matter how much he yelled or heaved, no progress was made. He desperately gripped at his hand, now as cold as ice, and laced their fingers together, sitting up in bed and staring as the tears ran down his cheeks and his sobbing seemed to echo through the room. "IT ISN'T FAIR! WAKE UP!" With those final words utter, he broke in two. His body was racked with a fit of choked sobs that stole at his breath and made him tremble like a frightened child, which in this instant was exactly how he felt. Like a child, shivering and afraid. After he'd shaken him and heaved and yelled he was at an utter lose, feeling every ounce of his soul leave his body like Thomas's life had left him. With one final action he buried his face in his dead husband's chest, holding on tightly into a hug the body could no longer feel, tears tracking his cheeks.

'This is all my fault,' was all that went through his mind.

=+=


End file.
